


Painted Blind

by binx95



Category: Righteous Bloodline, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humor, Monster of the Week, Multi, Multiple Religion & Lore Sources, Psychic Abilities, Romantic Fluff, Soul Sisters, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binx95/pseuds/binx95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul Sisters Stella and Roxi come across a strange series of murders, just in time for Valentine's Day. WIth the help of their psychic Aunt Jayna and Team Free Will, they'll hopefully stop the culprit before love is dead. </p><p>Part of the Righteous Bloodline Series, a creation of Anya Somers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pricks Like A Thorn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnyaSomers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=AnyaSomers).



“She didn’t show?”

 

Peter looked up at the bartender from his phone, who was wiping down the bar with a dingy-looking rag.

 

She had a look on her face that sort of resembled pity, but it was more amusement at his misfortune, and she pulled it off pretty well. She was pretty, paper-white skin with freckles and long auburn hair pulled into a low ponytail. She was the kind of girl that a folk song would muse about. He smiled sadly and shook his head no.

  
She laughed, bubbly and said, “This is what you get for asking someone out on tinder.”

 

He scoffed and leaned forward, “Excuse me, but how do you know I met my date on tinder?”

 

She stopped wiping the bar and leaned forward, “I know your type…and it helps that you’ve been swiping through since you sat down. Are you just looking to get laid?”

 

Peter gulped down the last mouthful of beer in his glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. She studied him as he did this, gazing over his tight grey sweater and dark wash jeans.

 

He put on a sad expression. “To be honest, I left my girlfriend a month back and I’m just trying to get a date in time for Valentines Day.”

 

“Oh, for a guy like you it should be like shootin’ fish in a barrel.” The bartender sauntered behind the bar to the pint glasses, and filled up the glass with a dark ale. She slid the drink over to him. “On me.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“So maybe if your date doesn’t show up… my shift ends in an hour, if you don’t mind waitin’.” She looked up at him coyly and his face broke into a cocky grin.

 

….

 

Elizabeth Darcy checked her athletic watch, which blinked 10:43 at her in green neon. The Mermaid was a tavern her and her roommate discovered on a late night exploration (exploration meaning grocery run. What? They’re always busy). It was perfect: close enough to their college for young people to shuffle through, but dive-y enough not to be too crowded. The beer was decent; the music ALWAYS good, and on Tuesday nights there was karaoke, which was their favorite.

 

Elizabeth cuddled into herself. It was the second week of February, and she realized how badly she needed a thicker jacket to stand in the parking lot next to her car, rather than the cardigan she had chosen to go with her dress. Wind whipped through her thick and curly blonde hair, with flyaway strands getting into her mouth, compromising her red lipstick. She wasn’t one to wear a lot of makeup, but red lipstick made her feel invincible. She had just come back from seeing her boyfriend, so her athletic body was dressed in a little black dress that flared out at the bottom and a pair of knee high boots. Red lipstick convinced her boyfriend that she dressed up for him – and only him.  Of course, she knew her roommate would be more than thrilled to see her don the bold shade.

 

An ’85 Chevy Caprice whipped into the Mermaid parking lot where Elizabeth was standing. Elizabeth could see through the windshield that her roommate was using only one palm of her hand to steer the car. She smiled against a better part of her that was annoyed at the belated arrival.

 

Elizabeth crossed her arms so she could at least _seem_ pissed. She heard the door slam, and a quick patter of footsteps toward her, accompanied with a high voice squealing, “I’m sorry!!! I’m so sorry I’m late!!!!”

 

Stella ran into her roommate with a hug. Although they had lived together through college and now had an apartment together, they treated every moment apart like an eternity.

 

“It’s okay. It’s freezing.”  
 

“Babe. Why didn’t you just stay in your car?”

 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Don’t question it, I just didn’t. It wouldn’t have been a problem if you weren’t late!”

  
“I’m sorry, okay? Christ, let’s go inside.”

 

They hooked arms and huddled together towards the entrance of the bar.

 

“You look cute. How was Maaaaaason?” Stella sang.

 

Elizabeth laughed and blushed, “He’s so good. Do you wanna know what we’re doing for Valentines—“

 

She stopped.

 

Stella unhooked herself and looked at her suddenly terrified friend.

“Darcy, what’s wrong?”

Elizabeth pointed to the dumpster area, where a shoe was poked out behind a fence. “Do you think that’s connected to a person?”

 

They walked over to the shoe, which was in fact connected to a person. His gray sweater was coated in blood, ripped open to show a cavernous mush of organs. His eyes were ripped out of the sockets.

 

Elizabeth gasped, “Holy shit.” She cupped her hand over her mouth, the steam of her breath sneaking through the gaps in her fingers.

 

Her hand trembling, Stella silently pulled out her phone and dialed.

“Dean? It’s Stella. I found you a case.”


	2. My Heart Fly To Your Service

Jayna handed the sleepy girls each a steaming cup of tea.

 

“Chamomile and Lemon Balm for you, Stella.” Stella reached out, delighted. Aunt Jayna’s tea was always fantastic. She could make tree bark appetizing. Stella blew on the green mug and took a sip. _Yum._

 

Elizabeth perked up at the mention, “Did you say ‘lemon’? I’m—“

 

Jayna put up a gentle hand that quieted Elizabeth immediately. “Allergic? Of course my dear, that’s why I gave you Chamomile and Linden flowers instead. It’s more fruity than the chai tea that you like, but it’ll help with your nerves.”

 

She tenatively took the mug from Aunt Jayna, and sipped, “Wow…”

 

Aunt Jayna smiled, “I’ll be right back with some honey pastries.” With that, she floated away to the kitchen, the peach floral kimono she wore around the house trailing behind her.

 

Elizabeth turned to Stella, who was enjoying her tea. “HOW does she do that? Did you tell her?” She whispered, incredulous.

 

Stella waved her off, “She’s psychic. You’ll get used to it.”

 

They sipped their tea, still a little shook up but generally okay. The tea and Jayna’s comforting presence was calming them down. After Stella left Dean the voicemail, she immediately got in her car, grabbed some clothes from their apartment, and drove her and her roommate to Aunt Jayna’s house. Stella would have called, but when she saw Jayna standing on her front porch before they had pulled into the driveway, she knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Aunt Jayna had her two nieces on radar. They had a wavelength that lit up when they were stressed or in trouble, and Aunt Jayna would ring them up to check in. Without needing a word of explanation, Stella’s Aunt had welcomed them with open arms into the house. A house that was warm and somehow always smelled like vanilla. They had spent the night in the guest room, bunked in the same full-size bed, and clocked in about an hour of sleep.

 

A slam at the front door shook the house and made the girls jump, and Elizabeth spilled a bit of her tea.

 

 “STELLA.”

 

Stella put her tea to the side to prepare for herself for the oncoming storm that was her little sister. Her hands were still shaking, and she didn’t need to spill her tea, too.

 

“ARE YOU OKAY? YOU SAW A DEAD BODY? IS THAT ELIZABETH? HI ELIZABETH. IS SHE OKAY? HOW ARE YOU SO CALM??? WHEN ARE THE WINCHESTERS GETTING HERE??”

 

 

Roxi stopped to catch her breath and her sister got up from the couch to hold her shoulders. Stella wrapped her slightly smaller sister in a hug. Fortunately, they saw each other often: Stella had graduated college and moved closer to where Roxi went to school. They were lucky to have Saturday visits of tea and coffee and Netflix marathons with their Auntie in her cozy home…and the occasional hunting trip.

 

Stella stroked her sister’s hair. She loved her, but it was way too early in the morning for screeching. “Rox, calm down. We’re fine. We’ve been to purgatory, one dead body isn’t gonna freak me out too much.”   


Roxi pointed to Stella’s roommate who was sipping her tea on Aunt Jayna’s oversized and comfy couch. “What about her?”

 

Elizabeth looked up from petting Aunt Jayna’s purring black cat (Zeke) and replied cheerfully, “My family owns a funeral home, so I’m familiar with corpses, even though this one was super bloody. This one time I got lost in a room full of coffins when I was little.” She smiled and went back to rubbing the kitty behind the ears.

 

Roxi stared at her. “That’s cool? I’m sorry I have no idea what to say to that.”

 _What the hell?_ Roxi mouthed to her sister.

 _She’s fine, don’t worry about it._ Stella mouthed back. Stella knew that Elizabeth could take care of herself, as she trained hard in track and karate, but Elizabeth hadn’t been privy to the DeLuci’s after-school activities in the supernatural. Stella was very protective of her.

 

Aunt Jayna glided back in the room and handed Roxi a cup of cocoa and kissed her on the temple. “Elizabeth, you spilled?” She nodded, and Jayna handed her a napkin from under the tray of pastries she was holding. She set them on the table. “Roxi, to answer your question, the Winchesters should be here soon.”

 

The phone chimed. Aunt Jayna picked up the receiver and smiled. Stella knew that specific smile, the one that pretty much reached her ears and brought out a new sparkle in her eyes. The smile that only came about when Sam Winchester was on the other end of the conversation.   
“Sam Winchester.”

 

Stella looked at Roxi and rolled her eyes with a chuckle. Aunt Jayna definitely had a thing for Sam and they both knew it. They had some sort of undeniable chemistry that vibrated the air around them when they were in a room together, like their auras fizzling. _Auras_ , Stella thought, _That’s such an Aunt Jayna thing…_

“Jayna!” The squeal on the other end of the line was so loud the girls could hear it from the couch.  Roxi snorted and clapped her hands to her face when Aunt Jayna shot her a look.

 

Sam cleared his throat and started again, about an octave lower, “We’re about ten minutes away. How are… the girls?”

 

Jayna smirked and said, “The girls are good, Stella and her friend are still frazzled from what they saw. I’m also very well.”

 

“Good. I mean not about the girls. I mean not about how they saw a body, it’s good they’re okay.” Jayna stifled a giggle, she could hear him rub his forehead, exasperated with his inability to get out the right words. He usually had this whole flirting with women thing down pat, but Jayna’s intuition kept him from being anything but _real,_ and real was usually an awkward-middle-school-style flirting over the phone. “Um, we’ll be there shortly. Yours is the little house on the corner right? With the wind chimes?”

 

“That’s me.”

 

“Great. We’re in the neighborhood. See you soon, Jayna.” He breathed, hanging up the phone. Jayna smiled, with a shade of rose quickly spreading across her cheeks.

 

“Who was that?” Elizabeth chirped.

 

“Only Sammy Winchesterrr, psssychic loverrr extraordinairrre.” Roxi rolled her tongue with the words and made kissy faces in Aunt Jayna’s direction. Jayna shushed her nieces and scurried back to get herself a cup of tea before the boys got there.

 


	3. Fume of Sighs

When they stepped out of the Impala and slammed the creaky doors, Sam inhaled the familiar smells of sage, vanilla and sugar that formed a safe bubble around the house on the corner. The wind chimes rang with the February breeze. Dean and Sam stretched their legs and waited for their angel to get over his carsickness before they walked up the stairs to the house on the corner. Castiel was on borrowed grace, so he was technically angelic, but if he popped wherever he needed to go that borrowed grace would burn off faster than you can say “Angel Blade.”

The DeLuci sisters seemed to always get into trouble somehow, especially with hunting-related endeavors. But they were eager enough to learn and their experience or… lack thereof was endearing. The Winchesters had taught them a few tricks of the trade, from their first hunt where they met (Stella’s supposedly haunted car, just a hex bag) to when they got stuck in Purgatory with Dean. That was hands-on experience if there ever was some. They considered the girls hunters-in-training, with Roxi’s fantastic handling of knives and machetes and Stella’s knack for target practice and baseball bat wielding. They learned in Purgatory that these girls were not to be fucked with. 

At the same time, they learned well from their Auntie. Their intuition was getting better and a real asset, and they brought courage and humanity to Team Free Will. And it helped to have some serious psychic mojo working in their direction as well. It was far from witchcraft, but Jayna Somers knew how to operate spirit boards safely, locate missing objects and perform protection rituals. She could read an aura like it was her job (which it was, when she wasn’t helping the Winchesters or kicking back with her nieces) and most importantly to Dean, she could bake a dangerous cherry pie. 

The boys carried their overnight bags into the house, and were promptly greeted by the usual onslaught of hugs from the DeLuci girls and precisely placed kisses from Jayna. 

Dean turned to give Stella a hug, and demanded, “What did you do to your hair?”

Her hair had changed from a golden brown to a dark red, and her previously chest length locks were chopped at the chin. She had forgotten that Dean and Sam hadn’t seen her since before her hair changed. 

“Hey, I had to cut my hair sometime.” She shrugged and skipped over to where Cas was coming into the doorway to greet him with a well-awaited embrace. They spoke over FaceTime when got the chance, which wasn’t a lot lately since the Mark of Cain came about. In real life, their conversations together were conducted in very close proximity, and it was unlikely that Stella would ever complain. 

Dean grabbed a squealing Roxi and smothered her in a hug. When he pulled back to get a better look at her, he exclaimed, “What the fuck? You too?” 

Roxi giggled and lifted the side of her hair to reveal a shaved off patch above her ear. “A boy at school shaved it for me. Do you like it? I think it’s edgy.” 

Dean massaged his fingertips into Roxi’s fuzz, and she practically purred. “A boy at school, huh? What did I tell you about college guys?” 

Roxi rolled her eyes and chanted, “College boys are stupid and not worth my time.” 

“That’s right.” He planted a kiss on her temple. 

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t. “If that’s your response to my hair, you should see my tattoos.” Roxi’s flirting skills were unrefined, definitely not as quick as Stella’s, but she had her moments, and hunting was giving her way more confidence. If she could slice the heads off of six undead walkers, she could definitely tell Dean Winchester to check out her new tats…and possibly kiss them. 

Dean winked at the little minx, but mumbled, “Please God let it be anti-possession.”

Sam swiftly moved to greet Jayna, who was looking even better than he remembered, if that was even possible. Sam wrapped his tree limb arms around her and his skin prickled where she touched him and a familiar feeling of warmth spread when he let her peak into his mind. The air fizzled around them.

Dean broke the silence, “Get a room, you two.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and the girls giggled. 

Their attention moved to the sound of low panting in the corner of the room. When the group turned, they saw Elizabeth accompanied by Jayna’s pets. Not only was she scratching behind Zeke’s little ears, but also the giant mastiff Chewbacca, rubbing his belly as he splayed out across her lap. Elizabeth saw the attention turned on her and smiled shyly. 

“Who’s Dr. Doolittle over there?” 

Stella smirked. “That’s my roommate, Elizabeth Darcy. Darcy, say hi to Sam and Dean” Cas cleared his throat over her shoulder and placed a warm hand on her waist. “and Castiel.” 

She lifted a small hand in greeting. 

“She’s shy when you first meet her, but get a little closer and she’ll never shut up. She was with me when we found the body.”

At the mention of the body and a victim, the boys snapped into hunter mode. 

“And that was last night?” Dean said as he and Sam took a seat on two of Jayna’s comfy chairs facing the center of the living room. 

“Yeah. We like to frequent this dive bar in town, The Mermaid. It’s in between my law school and Elizabeth’s grad school. It’s perfect. We were walking in to the bar, and we saw his body sticking out from behind the dumpster area. Darcy spotted his boot.” Stella took a breath. “His eyes were torn out and his belly had a hole in it.”

Elizabeth added, “It looked like his organs had been torn out with something’s claws. We see stuff like that in my bio labs.” She looked happy to participate. 

Sam leaned over to Dean and whispered, “Shouldn’t she be more…I dunno…upset?” 

“Oh, my family runs a funeral home, death doesn’t really freak me out. I mean the blood I wasn’t prepared for, and the eyes…gross. But I’m fine.” She focused her attention back on the animals surrounding her. 

Stella shrugged. “See? We’re fine.” But the word fine came out too high-pitched, and Roxi looked at her sister curiously. 

“Stel?” 

“Don’t worry about me. Is that all the information you need? I really want to go take a nap in a guest room. I didn’t sleep at all last night, and I treasure my eight hours.” 

The Winchesters looked at each other. “Go for it,” Sam said. “We have to check out the crime scene anyway. Jayna…?” 

Jayna snapped up from where her mind had drifted…somewhere in the rear of Sam’s body. “A place to put your belongings? You boys can use the third door on the left. There are two beds in there, because you’re not going to a motel when you’ve got a permanent residence right here.” 

“Where--” Castiel started. 

Stella stopped him. “With me, angel eyes. You can be big spoon.” 

Dean and Roxi raised their eyebrows at her chutzpah. 

Stella ignored this, and she beamed in Cas’ direction. “Nap time!” 

She darted up the stairs with Cas’ small duffel. Dutifully, he nodded in Jayna’s direction and followed her.


	4. Never Does Run Smooth

Sam and Dean had an interesting time, to say the least, with the local authorities. The coroner’s official report stated that a wild animal attacked Peter Richter (the victim) on Monday night outside of the _Mermaid_. Organs were clawed out of the stomach and possibly eaten, both eyes plucked out in the same way. The brothers had to wear facemasks at the scene of the crime because of how thick the stench was.

 

Other than the wounds on the body, and the smell at the crime scene, the Winchesters had only two leads. One witness, one suspect.

 

One witness, the pretty redheaded bartender, said that she watched him swipe through tinder (“The prostitute app?” “No, Dean, the dating app. That was _one_ time.”) before she offered to go home with him. Authorities were there by the time she got off her shift, so she never really witnessed anything.

 

The local authorities had only one suspect, Peter’s ex-girlfriend. She broke up with him because she caught him with another woman. When pressed further, she admitted to knowing about _more_ than one woman.

 

“So is it like a woman in white? Like in the first book? She killed cheating boyfriends.”

 

Dean scoffed from the couch where he was munching on a sandwich made with thick cut turkey and cheese that was toasted and melty and to _die_ for. “I told you Sammy,” He said between bites, “We should have burned those goddamn books.” He scolded Roxi. “First of all, doesn’t explain the eyes. Second...You read all of them?”

 

Roxi tilted her head and challenged, “We read all of them. Stella and I. Aunt Jayna did too, but it’s not like she needed to.”

 

Jayna calmly sipped her iced tea and flipped a page in the monster textbook Sam brought. “I appreciate good writing. Carver Edlund wrote beautifully, I’m not surprised they’re considered the Winchester gospels.” Jayna stopped at a faded picture of a hairy creature. “Ooh, werewolf?”

 

Sam shook his head from behind his laptop. “Explains the ripped chest…but doesn’t really explain the missing eyes and other organs.”

 

The wind chimes rang outside Jayna’s front door to let everyone know that Stella and Castiel were back from their afternoon out.

 

Jayna elbowed Sam in the pair’s direction, who were speaking rapidly within their established bubble.

 

“Hey,” Dean questioned, “Where were you two?”

 

Their bubble untimely popped, Castiel said, slightly sheepishly, “Stella brought me to the University’s Art Gallery after she woke up from her nap.” He turned to Roxi, “Did you know that she snores? It’s intriguing.”

 

Stella’s jaw dropped slightly, and she smacked his arm. They had napped together for the earlier part of the day, and apparently he wasn’t sleeping as much as he let on. At first, he had tried to lull her to sleep by telling stories of ancient civilizations he had watched rise and fall, but she was too interested in the story of Babylon to go to bed. He had pretended to fall asleep instead, his deep sighs and the warmth of his body pulling her closer was a good form of physical melatonin. When she fell asleep, cuddled into him, he spent the rest of the time sweetly kissing the back of her head and listening to her sleepy mumblings.

 

Stella continued recounting their afternoon. “I bought us coffee and we walked through the new exhibit on 18th Century Romantic Art.” She squeezed his hand and added, “Cas loved the Flaxman painting, ‘The Creation of the Heavens’.”

 

His face had a wistful look to it when he added, “I value human depictions of heaven.”

 

Dean squinted at the pair. “That’s sweet, Cas. You’re adorable. Can we get back to figuring out what this murderous motherfucker is so we can stop it before it kills another person?”

 

* * *

 

 

“So you wanna get out of here?” Theo flipped his baseball hat to backwards over his shaggy blonde waves, so he could leer in closer to the girl he had spent most of the night talking to (and grinding with) at the party. They had seen each other around the university campus a few times and accumulated a good amount of sexual tension. Theo was a baseball stud, and he flexed himself into every girl’s heart.

 

Finally they were both acting on it.

  
“About time,” Holly blurted, as she flipped back her dark chocolate locks in a practiced manner.

 

They stepped out of the frat house and into the cold February night.

Walking back to his dorm room inebriated was difficult, especially with Holly in high heel leather boots, pulling her red sequined skirt down with every three steps.

 

Happily intoxicated, they kissed and laughed and stumbled towards the great limestone building. They sloppily Frenched each other against the side of the structure.

 

Theo huffed into her neck, “God I love your perfume, what is that?”

Holly pushed him away from her neck, “I’m not wearing perfume.”

 

They looked around, the sickly sweet smell wafting toward them. Holly blinked to try and see what was making that smell. “Maybe that’s a garden.” She tripped into a plot of land and giggled, smelling the semi-frozen grass.

 

“Holly—“

 

“Yeah, Theo?”

 

Holly heard a thump and laughed out loud. Theo had fallen over, too.

 

“Get up, you drunk bitch,” She cackled, before she was cut off by Theo’s scream.

“Theo, what’s wrong? This isn’t funny, don’t mess with me.” She pushed herself up to her knees and clapped her hands together to get the dirt off.

 

“HOLLY!”

 

She turned and screamed, Theo’s hazel eyes were ripped from his face, and his chest was being savagely clawed open by something she couldn’t see.

 

Holly passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

Earlier in the evening, Jayna had coordinated a family-style Italian feast, topped with meatballs stuffed with Parmesan and sweet onions courtesy of Dean. Everyone had a job. Sam took care of the salad, Elizabeth did prep work, Stella baked a loaf of bread, and Roxi took a trip to the liquor store with Cas to pick up three bottles of wine. They ate so much that when the local authorities called the Winchesters about a second murder, Sam had to physically shake Dean to wake him from his food coma on the couch.

 

Sam, Dean and Cas got back around 11:30, and the girls were perched around the Jayna’s kitchen island with their forks digging into the half-gone tiramisu. After everyone’s first piece, they bypassed their dishes altogether.

  
Dean rubbed his eyes and leaned on the marble median. “Friggin finally,” He mumbled as he grabbed a fork and stabbed it into the coffee and mascarpone delight. 

 

Sam circled the island and greeted Jayna with a drowsy hand on her mid back before he did the same.

  
“Any luck?” Roxi nudged Dean.

 

“Nah. The two vics are completely different. One preppy guy, one frat guy…one blonde, one blonde, one brunette…different ages and different backgrounds. They don’t really have anything in common.”

  
“Who found the body?” Stella asked.

 

“His…date from a party they were coming from. Didn’t know each other too well. She was there when he attacked, said that she saw his chest bust open but nothing was there, and then she passed out. Story of our lives.” Sam shoveled another bite of tiramisu into his mouth and groaned.

 

Cas leaned against the doorframe and loosened his blue tie. Seeing him with a tie on was disarming, as he hadn’t worn one in so long. “The young woman, Holly, also reported smelling something very sweet, like perfume, before he died, but by the time we got there it smelled repulsive. If it had smelled like perfume I might have been able to identify it.”

 

“They do have something in common.” Elizabeth’s sudden addition was a surprise to almost everyone and the room stilled. She licked chocolate off of her finger.

 

“Come on, give it up Ace Ventura!” Dean demanded.

 

Elizabeth was still focused on her corner of the tiramisu when she answered casually, “Casual sex? Both guys slept around. The frat guy was leaving with a girl at a party, and then the first guy was a cheater.” She noticed the group was slack-jawed and shruggd. “Isn’t it obvious?”

 

Dean swooped over to her and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. “We’ve got a motive!”


	5. And So All of Yours

“So get this,” Sam galloped downstairs, freshly showered in his worn in jeans and a grey t-shirt (that was too tight in the arms, Jayna noticed) into the living room where she was reading a book entitled, _Changing of the Gods: Feminism and the End of Traditional Religions._

He gestured to his laptop and sat himself down next to Jayna. She looked at him from above her cat eye reading glasses.

 

“The description of the crime scenes and the victims sortof fits the descriptions of either a succubus, a siren or a lorelai, but I haven’t got enough information on the monster to narrow it down. If I could just get the smell that everyone is talking about.” He rubbed a giant hand over his face and pushed his hair back.

 

Jayna scooted closer to Sam on the couch, which comically required a little more effort since the couch was so soft and easy to sink into. He grinned at her.

 

“I have some books about fragrant flowers and herbs, and I can help you cross reference them with man-killing monsters.”

 

He dropped his head laughed and his chestnut hair fell over his face. He pushed his hair back again and said, “That is the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

 

“In that case…” Jayna provoked, nudging her glasses down to the bridge of her nose. “My books are also organized by the Dewey Decimal System.”

 

She smiled and met his eyes. His mouth twitched and he raised his eyebrows at her, questioning. Jayna placed an unwavering hand on his bicep and --

 

Sam’s phone buzzed. They both exhaled.

 

“You better answer your phone, it’s Dean. He has news.”

 

Sam pulled the cell phone out of his pocket and swiped to answer, “Dean.” It came out a little more frustrated than intended.

 

“Heya Sammy. You sound just peachy.”

 

He glanced at Jayna, who got up to put her book on the shelves facing them. Her library took up the entire wall, floor to ceiling. Recently the girls convinced her to put in a Belle-style sliding ladder so the three tiny women could reach the top shelves without throwing each other in the air. Sam watched Jayna retreat into the kitchen, probably for a cuppa.

 

“What’s up, Dean? And where are you?”

 

On the other end of the line, the song _Blank Space_ by Taylor Swift was abruptly turned up. And turned back down, with a muffled yell.

 

“Sorry, we’re listening to the 1989 in the car.”

“1989?” Jayna appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and held up a mug. Sam gave her a thumb up.

“The new Taylor Swift CD. Roxi had it and insisted on playing it. We just dropped off Elizabeth at her boyfriend Mason’s house, since it’s Valentines Day. Cas and I are taking the girls to the gun range for some last-minute practice. Stella’s rusty and Roxi can’t hit a target yet.” (This got him a punch in the arm from Roxi, who was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Impala)

“Really, Dean? It’s Valentines Day.”

“Hey, there’s a couples special at the shooting place and we’re getting the most out of it. It’s romantic.”

Sam scoffed. “Didn’t you have news?”

“Oh, yeah. The coroner called and said there were traces of flower pollen on both of the vics clothes. Something called plumeria? Ask Jayna if she knows about it, it sounds like some kind of woo-woo crap that’s in her arena.”  

“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you back with whatever we come up with. That should give us a good lead.”

“Great, talk to you later.” In the background, _Blank Space_ was turned back up, and very tasteful crooning of the chorus by more than two voices. The girls were trying to get Dean to learn the words to their favorite T-Swizzle song, especially because he already knew the lyrics to _Shake it Off_.

Sam laughed and hung up the phone. Jayna came back with two steaming mugs of English breakfast tea. He blew over the top of the mug before taking a sip. Black, just the way he liked it, and he didn’t remember telling her that. _Perks of dating—or being friends with a psychic_ , Sam thought.  He cleared his throat.

 

“Do you know anything about a flower named plumeria?”

“Of course, that’s a common scent used in incense. I think I have some, actually.”

“This is perfect. We can figure out what monster it is.” He pulled out a thick leather bound book from under her couch. “You take the East,” he pulled out another book, apparently volume two. “I’ll do the West.”

“Efficient.” Jayna agreed, flipping through the book.

 

* * *

Out of six shots, Roxi hit the silhouette twice. The rest was on the outside of the paper. She clenched her jaw. If this was knife throwing, she could hit the target in the head every time. On the bright side, she was getting closer, but it was still a struggle.

Roxi looked to the side, where her older sister Stella was firing her gun. Stella hit three in the chest, three in the head. She dropped her arms and cracked her neck. Roxi rolled her eyes. _Show off._

 

A tap came on her shoulder and Roxi spun around quickly, gun raised and cocked.

 

Dean yelled, “Hey oh, watch it. Gun down, please.” His hands were raised and in his right he was holding up a red box.

 

Roxi lowered her firearm and placed it on the table, taking off her ear protectors. They moved out of the range and into the hallway, leaving Cas and Stella to practice their aim.

 

“I got you something.” He offered her the red box.

 

Roxi’s face flushed and she squealed a little before she could stop herself. She unwrapped the box frantically to open it and see what was inside.

 

“Happy Valentines Day. It’s time you had these and I’m happy to be the one to give them to you.”

 

Inside the box was a set of pure silver throwing knives. Roxi’s stomach flipped. She was surprised he remembered her love of tossing sharp things around, and it was a sweet gesture. Who knew that silver throwing knives could be more romantic than chocolates and flowers?

  
“Do you like ‘em?” He asked, stooping a little to make direct eye contact with her. “We got Stella a handgun, it suits her. I was going to get you a handgun, too, but I figured you like these more. Maybe for your birthday when you get a little better at target practice, hmm? I’ll give ya lessons until then.”

 

Roxi jumped in Dean’s arms and squeezed him, yelling, “I love them! I love them!”

 

Dean placed her back on the ground, and his cell phone buzzed.

 

“Hey Sam”

 

Roxi watched his cheerful face change to a serious one. She was worried for a moment that something had happened to her Aunt or possibly another murder but before Dean hung up, he said, “Awesome, see you soon.”

 

“Dean?”

 

“We’ve gotta go. They figured it out.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Stella and Roxi looked at each other from across the room. They may not have been hunting for very long but they knew from the _Supernatural_ books that this was not a common monster.

 

Roxi crossed her arms and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, “A Pontianak? What the hell is that?”

  
Jayna handed Sam the smaller of the two textbooks they had, “Well, according to this, it’s an Indonesian vampiric woman who preys on men having random sexual encounters, which matches our vics, and then it rips open their chests and eats their organs…So the description fits. We kill it by stabbing iron nails into it’s neck.”

 

 “So how are we gonna catch it? Because that Holly girl couldn’t see it.” Stella was seated on the ground in front of the Cas’ knees on the couch for him to French braid her short hair. She shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth from the bowl, and a few kernels fell to be caught in her scarf.

 

“We’re going to smell it out,” Jayna said from the staircase, her purple maxi-skirt held in one hand and the other holding a few pink tea lights and a package of incense.

  
Dean laughed, and took a stick of incense from her, “Are we going to use that psychic crap? Because that stuff still freaks me out.”

  
Jayna touched Dean’s cheek lovingly and moved to put her items on the coffee table. “These are made from plumeria, which is how we will identify our monster. We’re going to memorize how it smells and then go to places that foster casual relations to try and catch it.”

 

“What places?” Stella asked.

 

Sam distributed packages of nails, and handed a nail-gun to Dean and Stella. “The _Mermaid,_ a restaurant in town that’s popular with university students and a stakeout outside Greek row. Who wants what?”

 

“Bar,” Dean and Roxi said simultaneously.

 

 “We may feel more comfortable in a restaurant,” Cas suggested. Stella loaded her nailgun and nodded in his direction.

  
Sam smiled brightly at Jayna. “Looks like it’s me and you outside Greek row.”

 

Dean finished packing in his nailgun and smacked the batteries in place. “Happy Valentines Day to us.”


	6. More Lovely, More Temperate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang separates to stake out three totally not-romantic spots around town.

It was beginning to get dark outside when Stella decided she was too hungry to keep watch in her drafty Chevy. Especially when there was a Valentines Day all-you-can-eat sushi special in _Miso_ , the restaurant she and Cas were monitoring. They agreed that by being INSIDE the restaurant they could keep a better lookout, anyway.

  
“Hi, two, please?” She almost yelled at the host who was focused on a game of Trivia Crack on his smartphone. His jet-black hair was dyed blue at the ends and slicked back on the sides and he was wearing gold eyeliner that matched his tie.

 

He surveyed her in distressed olive-green jeans tucked into combat boots and a black long sleeved t-shirt. Her red hair was clipped back so that he could see her thick black eyeliner and mascara. Cas was dressed slightly more appropriately in his suit and trench coat, but there were spots of blood on the lapel.  “I’m sorry miss, but it’s Valentines Day. Unless you are a couple with a reservation I’m afraid we cannot seat you.”

 

Cas leaned in and whispered, “I could overpower him if you believe this is a problem, but we should remain inconspicuous.” He placed a protective hand on her waist.

 

Stella reached down to squeeze his hand. This was the first Valentines Day in almost six years that Stella spent on a date, usually it was spent eating Chunky Monkey and drinking wine. Therefore, a romantic evening with her angel was not going to be missed. She smiled sweetly at him and said, “Well we do have a reservation.”

 

“Oh, my apologies. Under what name?” He flipped through his reservation planner.

 

“Um...” Her eyes flitted to the paper. “Katie Shapiro. That’s me.”

 

He said politely,  “Of course. Right this way.”

 

The walls of the restaurant were covered in oak panels and every few panels there was a cove where a lit vase of orchids sat. One of which was above their table. Cas reached up and plucked a flower from the vase and offered it to her before sitting down in his chair. “It is customary to give gifts on Valentines Day, correct?”  
  
Stella felt butterflies and her face burned up. She enjoyed every minute with him, and this was the cutest thing she could ask for. He was always a reliable source of affection, and didn’t even know how to play the games her usual dates did. She set the flower by her side. “It is for most people on Valentines day. Thanks, Cas.”

 

Castiel squinted at her. “You say that like this is not your tradition.”

 

She exhaled. “It’s more of a couple, dating thing, and I haven’t been a part of a couple in like six years. Apparently I’m not girlfriend material.” She laughed nervously. “So thanks for being my Valentine this year, or else I’d be eating ice cream and watching _The Office_ right about now.”

 

“I don’t think your relationship status has anything to do with fabric.” Stella blushed and shook her head. Cas reached across the table to hold her hand, “I believe you would be an excellent mate.”

  
Stella scrunched her nose. The word “mate” was weird. Castiel was always so formal, which she loved, but referring to her as a “mate” was iffy.

 

“Truly.” He continued, keeping his blue eyes fixed on Stella’s blue-green ones. “You are very intelligent, and kind, and also funny even though I don’t understand most of your jokes.” Stella giggled, “And you are an excellent hunter. I know Sam and Dean would agree. You are very protective of your sister. You’re wonderful to have around, and if you want, I will smite anyone that does not agree with that.”

 

She was speechless, so she just gave him a small smile and his hand a squeeze.

* * *

 

 

After a lot of arguing, they ended up taking Roxi’s car to the bar, and Sam took the impala. It was either that or to take Jayna’s car, which Sam would comically have never fit into.

Roxi was very proud of her pickup truck, and she and her friends would often drive to a clear patch of land on a clear night to look at the stars in the flatbed. She tried convincing Dean that she was a _really_ good driver, but ended up driving over a median strip. Since then she was a little less cocky, but not by much. Roxi quickly realized why Stella and her roommate Elizabeth came here so often. They were both introverts, and the bar was not busy in the slightest. Still, customers came and went, and there were quite a bit of lonely drinkers on Valentines Day. They decided to keep themselves busy with a few games of pool.

 

“I’m beginning to think you’re losing on purpose so I’ll show you how to shoot pool.”  Dean murmured into Roxi’s ear, as he leaned over her, holding up her arm and pressing on her back.

 

She had lost the last two games, and near the end of both of them she had whined to make Dean show her again. Dean placed a hand on her back and she shot the cue, hitting two other striped balls into a pocket.

 

She turned to face him, very proud of herself, and said, “Can you blame me?”

 

He laughed, “Do you want another beer?”

  
Roxi considered this. “Sure, if you’re buying this round.”

 

“You should buy, you’re the one who lost the games!”

 

Roxi moved her hair from one shoulder to the other, wrapping her fingers around the ends of her long curls. “I’ll buy the next round if you can beat me in a game of darts,” She sang.

  
Dean raised a finger at her. “You are so on.” She giggled and he made his way over to the bar.

 

Roxi watched his bow legs retreat to get them more drinks, and she leaned against the pool table. Though they were technically on a hunt, this was looking like a very successful night out with Dean Winchester. She pulled out a tea light from the pocket of her leather jacket and checked that she hadn’t smelled anything like it yet. She loved hunting. She felt relaxed but still on her toes. Adrenaline was ready to pump through her blood. She was honestly considering leaving school to be a full-time hunter because of this feeling but for now it was a part time gig. She knew how hard it would be from reading the _Supernatural_ books, especially if she was alone. Maybe her sister would hunt with her? And their Aunt Jayna would be like their Bobby, except more _Charmed_.

 

 _I’d read that book,_ Roxi thought. _If only there was a prophet to record the DeLuci gospels…_

From across the tavern, Dean Winchester finally got the bartender’s attention.

“Hey, I know you.” She looked at him with sparkling emerald eyes. “Agent Carney. Where’s your partner, um….Agent Auerbach?”

 

She was the same bartender that tried to go home with the first victim. Her long auburn hair glowed under the lights. She leaned forward on her crossed arms so that her white v-neck tshirt had all of her goods on display.

Dean gulped.  

“Right, you’re…um…”

 

“Mayla.”

 

“Mayla, of course. He’s checking out a separate scene right now. Totally top secret FBI business.”

 

She grabbed two beers from under the counter.

“So while he’s doing official FBI business, you’re on a date?”

 

“I’m not on a date.”

 

“Then who is she?”

 

They both turned to look at Roxi, who was adjusting her tank top with a very elegant boob scoop. She smoothed out her shirt and looked up to wave at Dean with coy smile. He waved and smiled back. He turned back at the sound of her cracking open the bottles.

 

Dean

“She’s just…” He held up the two opened beers like a toast to her. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

Though he was usually very physically affectionate with Jayna, he didn’t want her to see what was going through his head this time around. Every time they touched, she seemed to look right into the deepest pits of his consciousness, where he saw himself doing almost ungodly things with her. It was unbecoming, and unprofessional on a hunt. Since they were in close quarters inside the impala he had to be extra careful not to accidentally brush her arm. The self monitoring kept him quiet,.

 

“You can talk to me about it, you know.”

 

Sam looked at her, how her eyes nearly pierced her soul. He could talk to her, he talked to her about hell, and demon blood and the apocalypse and about leaving Amelia. He told her about wanting to die, wanting to sacrifice himself to close the gates of hell. Everything he could hold in was poured out like she took the stopper out with a gentle touch of her hand.

 

He didn’t want that to go away. Jayna was concerned with how he was feeling, if he was okay, and he could answer her honestly. She didn’t run away when he talked about all the fucked up stuff that was going on in his life.

 

Telling her everything he was thinking now would ruin it, he thought. It would endanger her life. She could die like Jess or Madison or even Ruby. Something always ruins it. But not this time.

 

“It’s nothing. We should just keep watch.”

 

It was everything. The curve of her lips. The way her hair smelled like jasmine. Why jasmine? How did that even happen? Shouldn’t it smell like something basic like coconut or whatever? She wasn’t even dressed like usual. She traded her billowy tops and maxi skirts for a pair of black denim pants and a long sleeved white shirt under a purple plaid shirt. It was interesting to see her in a hunting outfit. It was _attractive_ to see her in a hunting outfit.

 

At this point, the parties were just starting to pick up on Greek row, and students were baring the cold in skimpy dresses --and sometimes even heels (freshman). They moved in packs and Jayna started to play a game with silent Sam where she would guess their majors. They had no way of telling if she was right or not, but Sam knew her psychic intuition was a deciding factor.

 

Sam noticed out the window that there was a couple huddled together that was walking in the opposite direction of the flock of young adults.

 

“Over there.” He nodded out the window. Jayna followed his line of vision and got out of the car carefully.

 

They followed the pair, leaving a fair distance, when the moved around the corner and heard a yelp.


	7. Trespass Sweetly Urged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air changes around Dean and Roxi in the bar.

Dean usually spent his Valentine's Days in bars, he liked to consider it “unattached drifter Christmas.” The girls he found drinking on this hallowed day were usually self-conscious and lonely, and it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Roxi was the complete opposite of this, her confidence radiated off of her in waves, and he was stupid enough to challenge her to darts.

 

“Best two out of three?”

 

“Fine, but I’ll beat you again!” Roxi pulled her three darts from off the board, all in the red dot at the center. She was pretty proud of herself. Her accuracy with knife throwing was unparalleled, and this _definitely_ made up for her trip across the median earlier.

“You are so on.”

 

Dean threw his first dart, and it was close. Roxi hit a bullseye. She pointed a wide smile in his direction.

 

“Fine.” He said, fake dejectedly. “Let’s make it interesting. You hit this next bullseye and I’ll buy you booze for the next month.”

 

“Oh ho ho. Dean Winchester you picked the wrong girl to bet against.” She aimed…

He quickly pecked her cheek and she threw the dart so it just barely missed a man sitting to the side.

 

“Sorry!” She hooted at him. She spun to punch Dean in the stomach. “Screw. You. Dean. What. Was. That. For.???” Each word got a separate hit. Dean tried to fend her off but she landed each one.

 

“Well, I’m losing.” He mumbled, “Usually I get some action on Valentine's Day…”

 

“Dean!”

 

He put his hands up to keep her from hitting him again.

 

Instead, she reached up behind his head and pulled him in for a rough kiss on the mouth. He was _mostly_ kidding about going home with her, he loved Roxi, the sexy little spitfire that kept him on his toes, but he liked to think that their back-and-forth was primarily innocent.

 

Roxi was purposeful in her kiss. She pressed into him and he wrapped his arms around her back, and pulled up a bit because she was so much shorter than him. There wasn’t a lot of tongue or excessive grabbing. The kiss was straightforward, and they were almost suspended as they held each other there.

 

She inhaled deeply, taking in the faint smell of his car and the yeasty beer he was drinking. Roxi waited a moment before she realized he was parting his lips. She went with it until she smelled a different smell, a familiar smell and gently pressed her hand against his chest.

 

“Dean,” She whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam bolted around the corner of the building to grab the back of the boy’s polo shirt.

“Dude—“

 

“Who is she?” Sam yelled. He almost lifted the boy in the air.

 

“My girlfriend! She’s m-my girlfriend! I swear! I’m not hurting her!” He looked at his girlfriend, who was pinned against the wall, her eyes wide. “Please don’t jump us…” he whined.

 

Jayna touched his shoulder. “Sam, please relax.” He let go of the boy, who grabbed his girlfriend and sprinted off.

 

“What was that?” Jayna asked, more concerned than angry. She hadn’t seen Sam lose control over himself before, and it was alarming. He didn’t say anything in response.

 

“Sam… what’s going on? We need to talk about this.”

“I DON’T—“ he started, but Jayna looked at him with those piercing eyes and he knew he couldn’t brush this off. His eyes dropped and he brushed hair out of his face.

 

“I just don’t want to lose you.” He glanced up to see if this was an acceptable answer. Jayna looked like she was still waiting.

 “The things I think about…when you’re around… are just not _appropriate.”_

 

She was quiet. “Is this why you keep avoiding my touch?”

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

 

He looked up at her with his puppy dog eyes.

 

She paced and took a breath, turning back to him and holding his wrists. “If you’re worried about me seeing what’s going on in there, I can’t do it without your consent. It doesn’t work like that.”

 

He nodded silently. He looked at her and moved his arms so her hands slid down to hold his. The stood in the dingy alleyway and closed their eyes.

 

Images flashed across Jayna’s consciousness. Jess. Memories of holding her and kissing her neck and playing footsie under the tables in the library. Picking the right ring for her. She felt joy and then anguish. Unbearable pain. Seeing her on fire. Seeing her as Lucifer. Sarah Blake, kissing her. She swung an iron poker at a ghost, and he felt pride Her smile. Her choking on the ground. Images flashed to Madison. Passion. Chemistry. Feeling safe, and then again, his heart broke at the same time as a gun was shot. Ruby. Amy. Dead. Amelia. Gone.

 

Then hope. Laughing with the DeLuci girls. Sparring with Stella, whose hands were still fumbling and unsure. Roxi gelling his hair while he slept so he had a Mohawk. Cooking with Jayna. Smiling at Jayna. Snuggling with Jayna, her soft skin always warm. Vanilla. Jasmine. Cloves. Cinnamon. Home. He felt at home with his little makeshift family. Jayna wearing his too-big shirt. In his bed. Dragging his fingers up her waist to take off that shirt. Warmth into heat.

 

Sam’s phone buzzed. Jayna let go of his hands.

  
He looked at the caller-id. It was Dean. _Damn it._ He smiled at Jayna, still unsure of how she was reacting, but he felt better that she knew.

 

“Go ahead, answer it.” She smiled broadly.

 

He smirked, relieved.

 

“What’s up, Dean?”

 

“Sam. The Pontiac?”

 

“The Pontianak.”

  
“Whatever. Does it have a human form? Because otherwise we can’t kill it based on smell. And we smell it. ”

 

“Oh, um…Hold on, lemme check.” He put the phone on his shoulder and looked at Jayna, “Was there a human form of the Pontianak?”

 

She nodded, “In the lore there was a mention of a beautiful girl with pale skin, but that’s only if she’s trying to seduce her victim.”

 

“God damn it. Roxi!!!” Dean hung up the phone.

 

“Dean!” Sam yelled into the phone. “Damn it.” This was the reason why Sam and Dean are usually together on hunts, because if they get separated it’s almost always Dean who finds trouble.

 

“They’re in trouble, aren’t they?” Jayna sighed. She felt a mixture of anxiety and adrenaline, Roxi had a good amount of training at the bunker and in purgatory, but her niece was still a beginner hunter. At the same time, hunting for her wasn’t exactly new territory. It made her a little nauseous to think of drawing a living creature’s blood. But goddamn it if it hurt her girls…

 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” He pecked her on the cheek and they jogged back to the Impala.

 

* * *

Roxi took a breath. She couldn’t believe she made the bold call that she did. Kissing Dean was exhilarating for her. Especially with how long she’s flirted with him, it could’ve happened sooner. To kiss him to draw out a monster that fed on men was daring. She half-hoped they weren’t in the vicinity of the monster, so she could keep kissing him, but hunting alongside Dean was fine, too. They made a great team. (Not as great a team as Stella and Roxi, but they were on the same wavelength as soon as the sickly sweet smell of plumeria wafted near them.)

 

As soon as they broke apart, they moved to clear out the bar. Hustling out angry lonely drunks on Valentines Day wasn’t an easy task, but while Roxi finished clearing out the parking lot, Dean called up Sammy.

 

She remembered how Dean described purgatory, Pure. Hunting was pure, and even when she couldn’t see her monster she had a gut feeling where it was. She knew it even before Dean threw down his phone and yelled,

 

“ROXI! THE BARTENDER!”

 

 _Fuck. Mayla. That should’ve been a clue. What kind of name is that?_ Dean felt guilty for not seeing it before, but he was sort of oblivious. Hunting was _supposed_ to be his first priority, not a date with a 21 year old. His thoughts were scattered, but he tried to push this out of his head and get ready for a fight. He and Roxi stood in the doorway of the bar, Dean checking to make sure his nailgun wouldn’t jam and Roxi attaching four nails to her brass knuckles, her other hand ready to throw her silver knives.

 

“In the neck,” Dean resolved to Roxi. She nodded. This was it.

 

Roxi turned to bolt down the front entrance. She poured salt in front of the doorway, just in case. “Come out come out wherever you are, you slut-shaming vampire!”

 

Dean gave her a thumb up. He loved catchphrases.

 

They heard a cackle that sent a chill up their spines.


	8. Hell is Empty

Roxi and Dean stood side by side, listening to the cackle that was rattling the walls. It made the windows vibrate and bottles on the tables shatter. It froze their blood.

 

They pressed together, forming a wall. An impenetrable line.

 

They had covered all the entrances with salt. If it was a ghost, it wasn’t leaving the tavern.

 

The visage of the bartender flickered from behind the bar, and she gave a wave with her bony white fingers.

 

Dean stepped out to face the bar, and pulled the trigger on the nail gun but she flickered out again. He grunted, frustrated. He fired into the air around where she vanished, intending to hit anything he could.

 

“Dean. How the hell are we gonna get her close enough to kill her?” Her voice shook. She was ready, she was strong, but she would have been more confident if she could see her monster. The pride she felt playing darts against Dean had almost all drained from her body. Roxi looked around, scanning the tavern, her hands hovering over the knives on her hip.

 

Dean fired again, towards the dartboard, and they heard a screech. The girl flickered in, holding her shoulder and hissed at them. _The neck,_ Dean remembered.

 

A table flew out from against the wall under the dartboard and picked off Roxi, hitting her in the stomach violently. She slid with the table, pinned under it and and hit her head against the opposing wall. “Fuck,” She mumbled as she tried to get up, her vision blurred and the room spinning.

 

“ROXI!” Dean yelled, running to her, but the pale girl appeared in front of him. She lunged onto him, pinning him to the ground. His nail gun slid out of his hand. “Fuckin’ classic,” He grunted.

 

She leered over him and dug a hand of sharp nails into his chest; just enough to hold him down, and used the other hand to hold down his right arm.

 

He saw a free nail rolling on the floor just out of reach.

 

He tried pushing her off of him with his free hand, but she scratched his arm to discourage movement.

 

She hissed and dug her nails in a little deeper. He reached out for the nail and his fingertips grazed the head of it. It rolled.

 

She laughed in his face as he struggled, pressing him into the floor with her dagger-like hands.

 

“This is fun for me, do you realize that?”

  
Dean tried pushing her off to no avail. He saw out of the corner of his eye Roxi rolling her head to the side. She painfully pulled out her phone and tapped her fingers on the screen. She moved her legs. _Stall,_ he commanded himself.

 

“This is just a game to you? Innocent lives?” Dean spat.

 

She cackled again and he shuddered violently. She leaned down and whispered in his mouth, her hot breath a revolting mix of thick perfume and rotting meat. It reminded him of hell. “Those boys were far from innocent. I am _cleansing_ them. I am saving people from dealing with these empty vessels of self-loathing. It makes me sick to see people like you walking around.”

 

Dean said through gritted teeth, “What, you want everyone to keep it in their pants?”

She dug her fingers in deeper to his chest, breaking the skin and working to peel back his flesh. He howled in pain. His fingers closed around the nail.

 

She giggled softly, and licked Dean’s nose, her red hair spilling over the sides of her face blocking her peripheral vision. “Honesty, Dean. That’s what I love about this plan. You kill the men who casually copulate and get commitment and emotions in return. It’s a flawless system, and I’m following all the way through.”

 

He grunted and stabbed the nail into the side of her neck. She screamed and gingerly touched where it had punctured her.

 

Dean smiled broadly, waiting for the inevitable explosion or something. Maybe she would melt. That would be pretty cool to see.

 

To his horror, she pulled it out of her neck and held it in front of his face.

 

“Oh honey. Good try, but you missed.” She smiled, and her teeth suddenly looked razor sharp. She moved the green pendant that hung around her neck and revealed a small black hole in her jugular.

 

* * *

“Why do you get in trouble so often? I hear your prayers at least thrice a day.”

 

Stella blushed. She was very clumsy, and she had gotten into the habit of yelling, “Castiel!” when she tripped or got frustrated. Once or twice had he popped in and caught her, but that was in the beginning before she overused his name as an expletive.

 

“I just need a lot of help.” She looked at him, wondering why he was so interested in her life. He spent the last hour asking her questions about her childhood, her parents, what she wanted to do, why she wanted to do it. He wanted to know the reason for everything, from her favorite color green to why she thought she was going to die from some mysterious illness. She decided she was honest enough to ask him straight about it.

 

“Why are you so interested in my life?”

 

This question caught him off guard. Why wouldn’t he be interested in her life?

 

“You are…an unusual specimen of humanity, Stella DeLuci. I find it hard to believe you have such low expectations of yourself when you are clearly destined for great things.” He said it so sincerely.

 

She scratched behind her ear, a nervous habit she picked up when she quit biting her nails. “Really?”

  
“Truly. You knew very little about the existence of supernatural creatures, and yet you have a natural talent not only for mythological research but also hunting. You’re a valuable asset.”

 

“I swear I only keep you around for you to compliment me.” It was hard to put into words what he meant to her. She attempted to tell him, but she heard a faint buzz coming from her jacket. She threw a worried glance at him and his furrowed brow and ruffled through her pocket.

 

**911**

_“Shit.”_ She muttered. “We have to go.” She got up and threw her jacket on. She slapped a few bills on the table and grabbed the angel by the hand. “Let’s _go”_

* * *

 

 

“Damnit Sammy.” Dean grunted. That wasn’t in the lore. Or, he just forgot it. Hm.

 

He was reeled back into the present with the monster digging into his stomach with her claws. “Your intestines are going to make a delicious snack. I should have done this as soon as I saw your revolting meat suit in my bar.” 

 

“Hey!”

 

The Pontianak whipped he hair around to look at the person who yelled.

 

Roxi stood up, her legs a little wobbly, pointing the nail gun at with an expression that any action movie would want to have in it.

 

“He may have missed, but I _won’t._ ”

 

She hissed at the tiny girl and jumped up to attack her. Roxi shot the nail gun.

 

It cracked through the pendant into her jugular.   


The scream the monster made almost made their ears bleed. Roxi dropped the nailgun to cover hers.

 

The Pontianak exploded into a fine red mist, which splattered the walls of the tavern and the tired bodies of Dean and Roxi.

 

  
“I don’t think I’ll get used to that part.” Roxi said, wiping the red substance off of her leather jacket.

 

She slumped down next to Dean, who cuddled her under his arm in the middle of the dirty bar floor.

“Happy Valentines Day, kid.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stella came screaming into the bar, kicking down the door (with the help of her trusty angel) and running to her little sister.   
  
“Roxi, are you okay? Roxi!?”

 

“Goddamn, I’m fine. Calm down.”

 

Stella and Cas looked around at the red goo splattered walls. “It looks like a Pollock in here.”

 

Roxi raised a triumphant fist, “We did iiiiiit. Yay. Carry me home now.”

 

Stella rolled her eyes and pulled her little sister to her feet. She put her head under her arm to support her. Cas did the same with Dean.

 

They walked into the parking lot to find Sam and Jayna running toward them.

 

“Are you okay?” Jayna held the girl’s head in between her hands.   
“I’m awesome.” Roxi gave her a huge grin. “I shot the monster. I shot that sonuvabitch right in the neck. It was so awesome.”

 

Jayna smiled, proud of her. She nodded and waved over to Sam.

 

He scooped Roxi into his arms and carried the small warrior to the car. It was time to go home.


	9. Perchance to Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang recuperates, in more ways than one.

“More, please” Roxi sang, holding out her hot chocolate for Stella to spray more whipped cream into her mug. She had recounted her and Dean’s evening to a captive audience, and in return she got to drink endless amounts of hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. The residual adrenaline from the hunt was keeping her awake and active. 

 

It was almost midnight when Sam, Stella and Cas finished putting the bar back to the way it was. The job was done, which sadly meant that the boys would be back on the road soon.

 

Stella leaned back and sprayed a mountain of whipped cream on her tongue after filling Roxi’s mug. It was something she and her sister had always done when there was whipped cream around, and she had no intention to grow out of it. Even after she closed her mouth there was whipped cream left on her lips.

  
“Classy.” Roxi giggled, taking a slow sip of her hot beverage.

 

Stella made a face at her little sister, and went to return the whipped cream to the kitchen. Her cheeks were puffed out from her mouth being full.

 

Castiel, who was leaning on the doorframe, stopped her before she could go into the room, blocking the entrance with his body.

 

“Stella.” He rumbled; the way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine.

She wondered what she could do to make him talk like a thunderstorm all the time. 

  
Stella swallowed the rest of the whipped cream in her mouth and managed to stutter, “Y-yeah, Cas?”

 

He reached out a tentative thumb to her cheek. “You still have the whipped dessert on your lips.”

 

“Oh, embarrassing.” She reached up to wipe it off with the sleeve of her sweater, but he moved his thumb from her cheek to her mouth.

 

She watched his eyes, how focused he was on her lips. Her stomach flipped.

 

“Hey, you two.” Dean called from the couch.

 

They turned their heads together; Cas’ thumb was still resting on her bottom lip.

 

Dean cupped his hand around his mouth. “Get A ROOM” He yelled. Roxi laughed from beside him, trying to muffle herself behind her hand. 

 

Stella’s face flushed and she rubbed her temples. Cas dropped his hand and squinted at her.

 

“…A room for what?” He asked sincerely.

 

Stella smiled and leaned in to whisper, “I’ll um…tell you later?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

 

Cas nodded solemnly.

 

She smiled and pecked his cheek, and walked into the kitchen to help out Aunt Jayna with whatever she was doing.

 

Instead, she saw Sam putting mugs on a high shelf. As he reached up to place the clean dishes and cups, the back of his shirt rode up to reveal his lower back dimples. Stella saw Jayna tilt her head to glimpse the peek of skin. She smiled and shook her head. Team Free Will did a number on the three little women. They were all in trouble.

 

“Doing dishes at this hour?” Stella asked, pulling open the refrigerator to return the whipped cream.

 

Jayna glanced at the clock. **1:58**

The small psychic flipped her hair over her shoulder and said in a voice that floated in the air, “Time is a construction of those willing to measure it. It is only as early or late as you want it to be.”

 

Stella couldn’t tell if her aunt was messing with her. Her face looked pensive.

Jayna pursed her lips, holding back a smile. Stella giggled; her aunt was messing with her. She occasionally took advantage of the fact that Stella took things a little too seriously, and would offer a bit of knowledge wrapped in a flighty expression.

 

Jayna approached her niece, hands outstretched to usher her out of the kitchen and to bed. Even in hunter clothes the psychic still looked like she was sashaying across the room.

She patted Stella on the butt. “You’re right dear, we should all head off to bed.” She looked back at Sam, who finished emptying the drying rack on the counter. “Sam, that includes you. I know how your sleep schedules are off and you might as well go to bed as there are no immediate threats to disarm.”

 

He scoffed, but followed them out of the room anyway.

 

In the living room, Stella joined Cas by the bookshelves, where he was reading the bindings of the books on the shelves. Stella nudged his shoulder with her head to let him know they were all retiring to sleep.

Jayna took the mug out of Roxi’s only slightly-sleepy hands and placed it on the table, waving her and Dean up the stairs to bed. “I know you want to stay up but you had quite the day, young lady.”

 

Roxi grinned, almost drunk from her drop in adrenaline. “It was _unreal._ Today was awesome.”

Dean helped the new hunter off the couch, and followed her, Stella and Cas up the stairs.

Jayna made sure they were all headed upstairs, before pausing to breathe and say whistfully, “We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

 

Cas nodded from halfway up the stairs and murmured, “ _The Tempest_. Act four, scene one.”

 

“Naturally.” Jayna said at the foot of the stairs.

 

Sam turned after watching his makeshift family trudge up the stairs. “You coming?”

 

Jayna shook her head slowly. “I have a few things to take care of before bed.”

 

He stopped walking up the stairs and crinkled his forehead at her. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

It sounded more like a request than a question, but Jayna smiled graciously.

 

“I’ll be fine. Get your rest.”

 

Sam nodded blankly. He’d do what she asked and get as much sleep as he could.

 

* * *

 

 

Stella was in a field. A vast one. She could almost see the earth curve at the edge of her vision.   
She could breathe. She had this deep feeling of clarity and fresh, clean air to match.  She inhaled. Wildflowers. She didn’t notice them before but there they were: Her bare feet were surrounded by tiny buds of pink and purple and yellow. She picked a green sprig of something and crushed it in her hand. Was it mint?

 

A breeze moved her white dress. _This is heaven,_ she thought. She felt lighter. She wondered where everyone was. Her family. Roxi, Jayna. Where was Cas?

 

She inhaled again. They were probably fine.

 

She heard rustling. Leaves from a tree, maybe?

 _There are no trees around,_ she reminded herself.

But there were. She blinked and tall redwoods and oaks had sprung up from the ground, forming a dense forest around her. It felt darker. She tried blinking again to see if her surroundings would change back, but instead the flowers shrank into the ground. With every step, the dirt floor blackened her feet.

A branch snapped behind her.

 

She spun to see a monster straight out of purgatory. _No, I can’t be back._ But every other instinct assured her that she was.

 

She patted herself down. She didn’t have her gun. The one Dean gave her. She was totally unarmed.

 

 _You have a knife._ She looked around. Where? The zombie was shambling toward her. _Relax, it’s just one walker. You have time. Look for your knife._

 

She found her Swiss Army Knife in a fold of her pristine white dress.

 

Armed, she walked purposefully toward the walker. She plunged the small blade into its head. It collapsed to the ground.

 

She heard a familiar sound. Three were behind her. She kicked one over and stabbed the closest one. A second reached forward toward her and she slammed it into the one on the ground.

 

A bigger group was behind her. She started sweating. Where was her family? Why was she alone? She managed to kill most of them, but she was in a field with nothing but a small knife. No surroundings to use to her advantage. They advanced closer toward her. She heard a scream.

 

Roxi had a machete, and was cutting down a group of walkers. Stella felt a momentary wave of relief. She tried to run toward her, to fight back to back like they did in purgatory but her legs were moving through molasses. Her sister’s hair was knarled and her jeans were torn. Stella looked at her own dress, covered in splatters of dark, rancid blood.

 

Her sister fell. Stella’s scream was trapped in her throat. She couldn’t move fast enough. She tried to fight through it. Roxi was sobbing. Stella couldn’t get to her in time. She was covered in zombies. Stella had blood all over her arms. Blood was everywhere. Stella gritted her teeth. _Wake up._ She commanded herself. _This is a nightmare. Wake up._ Tears rolled down her face. She couldn’t escape it. It wasn’t a dream. She was back and she couldn’t get out. _Wake up. Wake up. Wake up._

* * *

“Stella, wake up.”

 

Stella was covered in sweat. Her eyes darted around the room. She was in her room in Jayna’s house. She looked down at her white arms, paled from being inside for the winter. She tugged at her clothes, seeing that there was no dress, just her worn _Black Keys_ t-shirt. Her heart throbbed in her temples. She realized she had cried, gingerly touching the few tears that dripped on her cheeks.

 

She looked up to a pair of bright blue eyes watching her. Cas’ brow furrowed, he was stroking back her sweat-matted crop of short red hair.

“You had a nightmare.” He stated. He wondered how he could heal her. Instead, he kneeled over her on top of the sheets, worriedly brushing the hair from her face.

 

“Embarrassing.” She mumbled. Stella folded back the sheets haphazardly to sit with her back against the headboard and cradled a pillow in her arms.

 

“I don’t think you should feel embarrassed.” Castiel adjusted himself to sit next to her against the headboard. “It is…inherently human to feel fear. Dean also has plenty of nightmares as well. You can tell me about it, if you feel so inclined.”

 

Stella noted that he looked funny without his trench coat and suit. He was wearing a pair of her college sweatpants and a shocking yellow tee that said “I Heart Tuna” on the front (courtesy of a Philadelphia thrift store). She was slightly surprised that they fit him, but her clothes were always too big for her. She liked to be cozy. Stella snuggled into the pillow she was holding, pulling her legs up to her chest.

 

“It was one I have a lot. Reoccurring.”

 

She paused to look over the angel sitting beside her. He was completely concentrated on her.

  
“I was in purgatory again, fighting…monsters. And Roxi showed up, and right when I thought we would work together and pull through, she…” Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back. “Cas, I couldn’t save her in time.”

 

Castiel wrapped his arms around the curled up girl. She leaned into him.  He smelled like honey. She silently prayed her hair still smelled like her coconut shampoo instead of sweat. He kissed the top of her head.

  
“Your sister is very fortunate to have someone so concerned about her.”

Stella nuzzled her face into his chest, “Thanks.”

“I’ve told you before. You girls are very skilled hunters-in-training. I doubt there are too many things you couldn’t handle if you tried.”

Stella rolled her eyes, “You sound like an inspirational cat poster.”

Cas chuckled. Stella felt his diaphragm move with his laughter, and smiled. She figured he didn’t get the joke, but her inflection was enough to hint at it.

“Besides, if you ever were trapped in purgatory again, you have a team of people that would immediately come to your aid.”

Stella nodded into him. “I know, you’re right.”

 

Cas paused, and said gruffly, “Was I reassuring enough? I don’t often console small tearful women.”

Stella crinkled her nose at him and beamed at him. “You’re perfect, Cas.”

 

He gave her a small smile and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she pushed herself off the bed, instead of acting on whatever she was thinking about doing.

 

Castiel watched her, looking dejected.

She cleared her throat, and offered, “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna get a glass of water from the kitchen.”

 

“I’ll just…wait here then.”

 

Stella grinned and turned on her heel out her bedroom door.

 

* * *

 

Eyes still sleepy, Stella padded into the kitchen, her bare feet chilled by the transition from the hardwood of the living room to cold tile.

 

She stopped when she reached the doorway, and saw her aunt standing at her island surrounded by a curious collection of rocks and candles placed on top of little salt pyramids.

 

Jayna smiled at her niece. “It’s just a protection spell. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

 

Stella put her hands up false-defensively, “I didn’t say anything.”

 

Her aunt bounced her head back and forth, with an expression that said, _Of course you didn’t but I knew what you were thinking._

 

Stella shrugged and pulled a glass out of a cabinet.

 

Jayna looked at her like she was just seeing her. “Stella. Did you have another nightmare?”

 

“Yeah, but I’m fine. Just getting some water and then I’ll go back to bed.”

 

Aunt Jayna narrowed her eyes at the small girl and pursed her lips. She went back to tidying up her protection spell, carefully placing each stone in a small jar with salt.

“Cas help?” She said loftily, like it wasn’t a big deal.

 

“Yep.” Stella poured her glass and sat herself at the counter of the island. “What’s that stuff?”

 

“Black tourmaline, emerald, peridot, bloodstone.” Jayna stationed a jar under a loose floorboard in the corner of the kitchen and whispered something inaudible as she closed it. “One of each of these jars is to be placed in every corner of the house.”

 

“You stayed up until 5AM for a bunch of jars?” Stella took a sip of her water. _Psychics…_

 

“The Hindi believe that times just before daybreak are the most auspicious, or lucky. It brings good fortune, and a little extra juice for a protection spell.” Jayna held up a jar with an almost glowing green emerald in it. “We could all use a bit of luck.”

 

Jayna started out of the kitchen with three of the jars, only to be stopped by another small girl, who got a peck on the cheek.

  
“Rox?” Stella set down her glass on the dark marble countertop.

 

Roxi yawned in response. She took a seat beside her sister and rested her head on her shoulder. Stella gently patted her back.

 

Jayna returned empty handed, clearly finished with her ritual. She blew out the thick white candles that were lit and returned them and the salt to her pantry.

 

The mystic fixed her deep brown eyes on her niece’s sleepy ones. “Did we wake you, Roxi dear?”

 

“I heard people talking and I wanted to join.” Roxi’s head slipped off of Stella’s shoulder and bobbed back up.

 

“Mmmhmm.” A laugh bubbled out of Jayna. “You thought it was Dean.”

 

Roxi smiled without opening her eyes. “No…”

 

“Oh my god.” Stella gestured out the wide kitchen windows. Dawn was breaking. Streaks white and pink light was peeking over the trees in Jayna’s backyard.

 

Jayna sighed. “I could hurry the two of you up to bed for the second time, or we could watch the sun rise.”

 

Roxi’s eyes fluttered open. “That sounds cool. Lets do it.” She looked at her sister for her response.

 

“Well I’m not going back to sleep. I have to run upstairs to tell Cas, but I’ll grab a few blankets while I’m up there so we could sit outside.” Stella hopped down from her bar stool and pointed at Jayna’s state-of-the-art coffee maker. “If we’re doing that I want a cup of coffee.”

 

“I’ll take care of that.” Jayna resolved. Soon the smells of Columbian beans filled the house.

They sat under Jayna’s thick blankets with their steaming mugs, still too hot to drink but warm enough to hold. Their chairs on the porch were pulled next to each other, as if they intended to share their blankets and body heat, and it was transparent why Jayna had worked so hard on a protection spell for their house. Moments like these needed to be protected at all costs.

Silently, the three women watched as the sun slowly showed its colors, beginning a new day.


End file.
